I-m sick, for sure: deep darkness holds my heart,
I-m bored with the people and the stories,
And dream of treasures of the kingdoms, glories,
And yataghans, all covered with blood.
It seems to me - and this is no fraud -
A Tartar, squint, was one of my begetters,
That fierce Hun. And the infection-s fetters
Through length of ages, are my steady bond.
I-m mute. I pine... They vanish - walls of home:
There is a sea in spots of silver foam,
The sun of evening - on the stones- lead,
The city, with blue domes, like its wardens,
With flourish and decor of jasmine gardens,
We-d fought right there... Oh, yes! And I was killed!
Sonnet
Nikolai Stepanovich Gumilev
(1)
Poem topics: city, dream, heart, home, people, sea, sick, silver, sun, evening, blue, deep, fierce, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
Submit Spanish Translation
Submit German Translation
Submit French Translation
Write your comment about Sonnet poem by Nikolai Stepanovich Gumilev
Best Poems of Nikolai Stepanovich Gumilev